


Mistletoe is for Kissing

by arachnistar



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fake Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 21:46:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1201753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arachnistar/pseuds/arachnistar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and Rose arrive on the wintry planet Beiralis, only to run into trouble of the poison variety. Secret Santa fic for thebadddestwolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistletoe is for Kissing

“Is it always this cold here?”

The Doctor and Rose walk down a snow-packed street together, hands clasped and swinging between them. Wood cottages with sloping roofs stand on either side. The native Beiralians, bulky humanoids with shaggy coats of white and gray and tufted ears sticking out from the sides of their ears, stroll by them, indifferent to the chill.

“Nope.” The Doctor says. “Only most of the time. Beiralis has a short summer every five Earth years. Give or take a few months depending on atmospheric conditions.”

“What do they eat? Can’t exactly grow anything in this weather.” Rose pauses and then adds, “Can you?”

“You very well can. The plants here are all very well-adapted to cold. Grow just fine all winter long. Just like the Beiralians.” His eyes light up as they always do when he gets to show off his considerable knowledge of the universe. “There’s an antifreeze protein in their cytoplasm, well really a few proteins that work together. They keep ice from forming in the cells.”

“Like the antifreeze in cars?”

“In a way. Completely different chemical structures, though the end result is – oh warm beverages!” The Doctor gives a little hop and tugs Rose to the cart, lecture forgotten for the time.

The Beiralian seller beams at them from behind his thick whiskers. “What’ll it be?”

It’s been ages since the Doctor last visited Beiralis and this time the planet is a few centuries past his previous visit, but some of the drinks look vaguely the same. He scans through them and then nods, “Two Pepp-pepperis.”   

As the Beiralian man whips up their drinks, Rose nudges him, “Peppermint, yeah?”

He winks, “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

The Beiralian hands them the beverages and after paying, they wander off hand-in-hand. They sip at their warm drinks and she voices her approval.

Peppermint is the predominant taste, a pleasant sharpness on his tongue, but there’s something underneath. An herbal something that adds a tasty tang to the drink. He’s trying to figure out what that taste is from – not any type of tea, they don’t grow tea on this planet – when Rose leans into his side, her drink sloshing dangerously.

“Rose?”  

“I’m not feeling so –“

And she drops. The Doctor just manages to catch her, his own drink tossed to the ground. His hearts hammer in his chest at her dead weight ( _she’s still alive, there’s her pulse right there and she’s still breathing, but for how long?_ ) and it’s imperative that he identifies what’s in this drink and he needs to get her to the TARDIS and what if she – he stops that thought because it won’t happen. But it’s too far to the TARDIS, even running he might not make it if… He tries to ignore the countdown in his head as he gathers Rose up in his arms. He’ll make it, he will.  

There’s a tap at his shoulder, one of the Beiralians, and he’s just about to snap at him that this really isn’t the time to chat when the alien speaks, “There’s a doctor just down the street. I can take you there.”

The Doctor hesitates. The TARDIS has better technology, better facilities, and really he’ll feel better if _he’s_ the one tending to Rose. But it’s also further and so long as he doesn’t know how fast the poison works, let alone what it is, he can’t risk the time. Anyway, he can always butt in if the Beiralian doctor proves unsuitable.

“Then what are we waiting for?!”

They take off together. The clinic they arrive at is small but sectioned off into numerous rooms. A receptionist greets them with a quick hello and he’s directed to a smaller room. As he places Rose on the bed, still breathing thankfully, another Beiralian enters the room.

“Dr. Hvarena. What happened?” She asks, immediately getting down to business.  

“We were drinking Pepp-pepperris and then she fell over. It’s not the peppermint, it’s something else.” He admits the next part in a subdued, guilty voice. “I don’t know what.”  

“Any allergies or particular vulnerabilities I should know about?”

“Nothing special. Just your average human.” His eyes widen and his hands fly up to tug at his hair. “Oh, stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid! It’s mistletoe! Of course that’s what it was. But regular _Viscum album_ doesn’t act like this…”

“The Beiralian variant does. We get a few cases every year from off-worlders who don’t take to it. Really should read up on the guides before coming here.” Dr. Hvarena pauses in her routine. “I can handle it from here. Go wait outside.”  

His hands drop from his hair to curl at his sides, a steely tone entering his voice. “I’m staying.”

It’s the type of voice that brooks no argument from his enemies, but Dr. Hvarena simply lifts her eyebrows.

“Only family can stay in the room. You’ll have to wait outside or I won’t be allowed to treat.”

He wants to reach out and shake the Beiralian, yell that strict medical procedure really isn’t that important when Rose’s life is on the line, but there’s no time to get into discussions about right or wrong (even though she’s clearly wrong and he’s clearly right here).

“Husband. I’m her husband, we’re married. Just got married a few months ago in fact. Lovely ceremony on a beach.” He rambles off. “Now help her.”

The Beiralian peers closely at him, searching his eyes. He stares right back, body entirely still except for an impatient twitching in his foot. Satisfied by what she finds, she nods. “Very well. You may stay. Just keep out of my way.”

He withholds a sigh as Dr. Hvarena turns her attention to drawers full of various herbs. She pulls out several plants, all of which he carefully catalogues against a mental bank of plants poisonous to humans. After his failure with the drink, he needs to make certain none of these plants meant to cure Rose instead spell her doom. Also he needs something to do, something that’s not looking at Rose with her pale skin and shallow breaths, something that doesn’t involve thinking about her possible death or the precious seconds ticking by. The Beiralian had said she’d treated mistletoe poisoning cases before; Rose would be alright.  

Once the herbs are selected (none of them dangerous to humans), Dr. Hvarena begins chopping them. She glances at the Doctor and then nods at Rose, “Get her out of her coat.”

The Doctor quickly removes Rose’s bulky snow coat and the sweater beneath that, leaving her in just shirt and trousers and underclothes. Her body shakes at the cold air. He frowns and curses the lack of proper heating systems on this planet and human vulnerability to the cold.

Dr. Hvarena appears by his side, a syringe of dark liquid in her hand. She empties the medicine into Rose’s exposed arm and then steps back. She points back at the remaining antidote. “This needs to be administered every two hours for twelve hours to be efficient.”

“I can do that.” He nods, eyes not leaving Rose. She looks the same as before, dangerously close to death’s door, and though he knows she’ll start to recover now that the antidote is in her system, he won’t feel better until she’s awake.

The Beiralian gives his shoulder a pat. “Your wife will be fine, Mr…”  

“Doctor.”

“Dr. what?”

He’s about to say his usual bit, just the Doctor, but changes track, remembering the lie. “Tyler. Doctor John Tyler. And this is Rose Tyler.”    

“She’ll be fine, Dr. Tyler. I’ll be back in a few hours to check on her.”

With that, the Beiralian doctor leaves to attend to other patients. The Doctor tucks Rose under the covers and then takes a seat by the bed.

X-X-X

It’s been over eleven hours – eleven hours, forty-two minutes, and fifty-four seconds – since the first injection was administered and the Doctor began his careful vigil over Rose. Her color has improved since then and her breaths have evened out, but he’s not relaxing until she opens her eyes.

As much as he’d like to blame the seller for handing them drinks containing mistletoe without advertising the presence of the plant, he knows there’s no one to blame but himself. He should’ve known that Beiralians adore the taste of mistletoe, that the Beiralian variation of mistletoe is not only especially delicious but also especially poisonous to humans, that Pepp-pepperris have changed since last he had one back before mistletoe was introduced to this planet, that nowadays Beiralian mistletoe is as vital to the drink as peppermint itself, that no one bothers to include it in warnings because it’s such an obvious addition. He is the only one to blame here. 

And then there’s the lie he told to stay with Rose. Husband. Not father or brother – husband. It makes more sense this way, he reasons. Father and brother are too strange; they definitely don’t describe his relationship with Rose. It would feel wrong.

Husband doesn’t feel wrong. It’s not right either, he supposes, but it’s closer to the truth than the other two. Closer to his feelings anyway. He shies away from the thoughts to return to the mistletoe mistake. How could he not know?    

“Doctor?” Her voice is small but it breaks through his buzzing thoughts in an instance.  

“Rose!” He grins – she’s okay, she’s really okay and awake and most definitely alive – and then slips into professional mode. He reaches out to press fingers to her neck. Pulse strong and steady, that’s good. His hand moves to cup her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired. Like someone turned all my limbs into lead. A little loopy, just a bit. And cold. A lot cold.” Her nose wrinkles at the last part.

The Doctor considers her for a moment shivering in bed and then toes off his trainers. His coat and jacket come off next and then the mattress dips as he climbs into the small bed. He stays on top of the covers and pulls her close. She stills against him.

“Is that better?”

“Y-yeah.”

They stay quiet for a moment, simply enjoying the warmth of each other’s bodies through the layers. He debates crawling under the covers with her, it would be warmer, but decides against it. She’s still recovering and he doesn’t want to push anything. Anyway, this is fine, brilliant, molto bene.      

“Hold on, what happened? Why are we…” Rose peers around the room, “in a hospital?”

“The Pepp-pepperri had mistletoe in it, a Beiralian variation. Delicious flavoring to the Beiralians, deadly poison to humans. You fainted. I brought you here and Dr. Hvarena brewed up an antidote for you.”  

“Oh.” She shifts to look into the Doctor’s eyes. “I’m okay now.”

“I know.”

“Even better than okay. Got a cuddle from it, didn’t I?” She nudges him when he fails to cheer up. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I should’ve checked to make sure there was nothing dangerous in the drink.”

“You got me here and I’m fine now. S’all that matters.” He grunts and she laughs.

“You still need one more injection.”

That cuts her laughter right off.

“Yeah?” Rose sighs. “Let’s get it over with then.”

“Can’t for another six minutes and twenty three seconds.” At her mystified look, he adds, “One injection every two hours exactly, that’s the rule.”

“Doctor’s orders?”

“Yep.”

“Mhm…” Another shiver wracks her body. “And what would you prescribe for the cold, _Doctor_? Your current treatment isn’t entirely successful so far.”

“Oh you should definitely get closer then. Extra cuddling is the most efficient cure for chills.”

“Maybe you should be beneath the covers then.”

There’s a brief moment of hesitation on his part where everything seems frozen around him, even time. Then he complies, ignoring the rapid double-beat of his hearts, and she’s pressed to his side, face buried into his chest, and it’s absolutely wonderful. Really he should’ve taken her to a wintry planet long ago. Or maybe ‘accidentally’ broken the temperature regulation system aboard the TARDIS. Or, and his hearts speed up at the thought, maybe he should’ve plucked up the courage to do this on his own long ago (which is ridiculous because this is probably a bad idea although the usual reasons holding him back have fled from the reality of holding Rose in his arms).

“My, my, you’ve got a fast heartbeat. Heartsbeat?” Her voice is muffled from where she’s pressed against him, but he can hear the cheek clear as day.

“Faster blood flow helps with better heat distribution.” The lie trips easily from his mouth, but she just shakes her head.       

“I’m sure that’s it.”

“It is! Oi, what are you doing?”

She’s undoing the buttons on his oxford and it’s like falling into one of his fantasies (except the fact that the room is chilly and it’s a small hospital bed instead of his own bed and she’s still one injection away from full recovery).

“Better heat distribution if you have your shirt off, Doctor.”

“I-“ He can’t quite come up with a response for that, let alone a witty one. Because it’s true, she’d be warmer if there weren’t layers between them. He focuses on the reasons why they’re here rather than the situation itself. It’s to share body warmth, nothing more.

Once the buttons are undone, he wriggles out of the shirt. His tie and T-shirt follow after and then Rose is cuddled back up to him. Every nerve is firing, particularly where her breath brushes his skin and where her fingers trace lazy patterns along his chest. He swallows thickly. If she wasn’t still in recovery…  But she is and her shirt stays on and he just holds her and marvels at the moment.

She sighs, fully content, and he smiles softly. They lay together in peaceful repose until, a minute and ten seconds later, the Doctor reaches out for the syringe on the bedside table.   

“Rose, it’s time for your final injection.”

She voices a small complaint at the rush of cold from his movement and then allows him to inject the rest of the antidote into her blood. Once that’s done, Rose curls up in his arms and falls asleep. He presses a kiss to her forehead and settles down to wait.

X-X-X

It’s the sleepy nuzzling at his collar that alerts the Doctor to Rose’s close waking. Her lips brush gently along his skin, not really a kiss but still contact, and even though he knows she’s not aware of what she’s doing, his hearts speed up.

Her eyes open and for a brief moment, her brow creases in confusion. Then the memories return and she glances up at him with a shy smile. He returns it with one of his own and a cheery, “Hello stranger.”  

“Hello.”

“All better?”

“Much.”

They grin at each other and it isn’t until someone clears their throat that they notice someone has entered the room.

“Ah Ms. Tyler, you’re up.” Dr. Hvarena asks, “How do you feel?”

“A lot better. Thank you.”

The Beiralian inclines her head. “It was my pleasure. Now as I’m sure you’re aware, today is the Frejavan Festival. It would be an honor if the two of you joined in. As a newly married couple, you’ll lead the first dance to start the festivities off.”

“We’re no– “

The Doctor is quick to drown her out with his own voice. “We’d be happy to accept.”

Rose shoots him a look, but Dr. Hvarena’s gushing excitement and his returned neutral expression is enough to keep any questions at bay for now. Later… well, the Doctor’s ready to explain why a false marriage was necessary.

“Excellent. I’ll leave so you can get ready.”

Once she leaves, Rose turns to the Doctor. “Married?”

“Had to. Only way I could stay in here and make sure the doctor knew what she was doing. Doesn’t mean anything, of course,” he says with a simple shrug.

Does he imagine the quick flash of disappointment across her face? Whatever the look is, it’s quickly replaced by one of his very favorite Rose Tyler smiles, the one where her tongue pokes out as she teases him.

“Careful, a girl could get upset by that kinda attitude.”

“And are you?”

He’d meant to tease right back, but the question slips through his lips instead. Instantly he wants to swallow back his words. Rose looks just as startled as he feels, eyes wide, and then she relaxes into an easy smile. He studies that smile – it’s a false one, one that she sports when she’s pretending everything is alright. He should do something, pluck up some courage and pursue the point, but she pushes at his shoulder before words can come out and he lets it drop.   

“Course not. Now get out of bed and turn around.”

“Oi, now who’s the rude one?”

“I have to change, remember?”

“Oh… Right, of course, going now!” The Doctor clambers out of bed and turns his back to her. 

X-X-X

Once she’s bundled back into her coats and he’s in all his layers again, they follow the Beiralian doctor out to the main plaza. Garlands hang between buildings and long trestle tables covered with all types of food surround an open, currently empty space meant for dancing. Dr. Hvarena leads the couple to a bulky Beiralian holding a clipboard. They speak briefly and then the beaming Beiralians turn to the Doctor and Rose. 

“Right then. The first dance will be in a few minutes. Please wait here.”

The Doctor casts a regretful look at the food and the Beiralians munching on the treats before returning his gaze to Rose. “Are you okay? Not too cold, are you?”

“No.”

Her voice is a little frosty, distant, and the Doctor frowns. Is she angry at him? He goes over everything that’s happened. It’s not the poisoning; even if she should blame him for it because it _is_ his fault, he knows she doesn’t. Sleeping together? No, she was happy then, they both were. That they’re pretending to be married? Could be. It isn’t as if he’d asked her about it beforehand and humans could be sensitive about this stuff.

Or maybe she’s upset that nothing further happened? That they’ll pretend nothing happened here like they always do? That they are still as they always were, best mates traveling space and time.

He shuffles his feet and reminds himself that there are very good reasons last night won’t lead to anything more. Very good reasons, wonderful as holding her in his arms had been. Perfect as the moment had been, though how much more perfect would it be if – no, he needs to stop dwelling on this. Best mates pretending to be married sharing body heat on a cold night, that’s all they are. Even if all the reasons against anything more, her comparatively short life and what he can’t offer, seem flimsy compared to what could be.      

A large, spiraled horn is blown and silence descends throughout the crowd. The Doctor sets aside his thoughts for later and turns to look at the Beiralian speaker.

“Beiralians and guests! We would like to announce this year’s Frejavan Festival. I hope you have all enjoyed the appetizers.” There is a general murmur of consensus with a small grumble from the Doctor. Rose pokes him and gives him a small smile. He smiles back, hopeful.

“Very good. Now I present to you the new couples of the year! They shall lead you in the first dance.”

The Doctor and Rose alongside three Beiralian couples step out on the dance floor. The music starts up and the couples begin the dance. It’s much like an Earth waltz with some additional twisting flourishes and heavy stomps thrown in. The Doctor leads Rose through the steps and soon she’s gotten the hang of the modified dance steps and the two of them are spinning across the dance floor like any other couple. He smiles at her and when she returns the smile, earlier ire forgotten or set aside for the moment, his hearts skip a beat.

Once the first dance is over, other couples join in. The Doctor and Rose continue to dance for four more songs and then they retire to the food tables, the Doctor eagerly tugging Rose along to examine the hors d’oeuvres while steering clear from the mugs of Pepp-pepperris and any foods seasoned with mistletoe. There are small tarts and roasted haunches of meat and crystallized fruits to enjoy and the two try a little of everything.  

Their food finished, the Doctor and Rose stroll to the trash cans to dispose of plates. On their way back, Rose points up at one of the garlands where several sprigs of mistletoe hang.  

“We never do these things right. Mistletoe’s for kissing and here I get poisoned.”

He smiles back, if a bit forcedly because he’s still not quite over his mistake. “Not to the Beiralians. Well, they don’t get poisoned but there’s no tradition here of kissing under the mistletoe. It’s actually a funny story, how that all started – “

And he knows what he’s doing, knows that he’s going on about mistletoe customs because he’s still awful at all this, knows that Rose is disappointed because she knows his tactics, can see it on her face which is just begging to be kissed, and maybe after last night he _should_ and it’s what married couples do (even if they’re not actually married) and he wants to so much –

“Sod it.” He says and leans in to give her a quick peck on the lips. Well, it’s going to be a quick peck anyway, that’s what he planned, a quick peck for false marriages and Earth mistletoe customs and Rose and himself, but Rose’s hands come up to tangle in his hair and his arms loop around her waist and she’s warm and her lips are moving against his and that’s her tongue there, running along his bottom lip, all brilliant, and then his mouth is open and he’s really glad that things didn’t go according to plan.

Rose pulls away first and he lets out a little whimper at the loss of contact. His lips are cold where she’s left them and he wants nothing more than to continue. All his reasons against this, which appeared so flimsy when he held her in his arms and so important even earlier, have fallen apart after that kiss.

“Think we can sneak off to the TARDIS now and get out of this cold?”

He blinks. “The cold’s not that bad.”

“Did get you into bed with me.” She concedes and then smirks at him. “But I don’t need cold to get into bed with you.”  

He can feel the grin twitching away at his lips, but he tries his best to keep a straight face. “Is that a line, Rose Tyler?”

“Might be, yeah.”

“What are we waiting for, Mrs. Doctor?”

“Only you, Mr. Tyler.”

Full-on grinning now, the Doctor takes her hand and the two hurry back to the TARDIS.    


End file.
